


A Sturdy Chair

by BaconWrappedRainbows



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Khuzdul, Anal Sex, Canon Era, Endearments, Gimli stands on a chair to bone Legolas, Innuendo, Khuzdul, M/M, Mirkwood, Mirror Sex, Oneshot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Sindarin, Smut, That's literally all that happens, Top Gimli, bottom legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 07:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaconWrappedRainbows/pseuds/BaconWrappedRainbows
Summary: “Hmm, yes. But I do perhaps wish I were a little taller, just at the moment, so I could have ye where ye stand.” Gimli sounds very earnest in his wish.Legolas shivers. He glances over to the chair, and he seems to do so at the same time as Gimli.“Do you think that chair is sturdy, Legolas?” he asks. There is a note of mischief in his voice.Legolas smirks. He likes where this is going. “Yes, I do think– As sturdy as such a chair can be, I would say.”





	A Sturdy Chair

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I suddenly wanted to write a PWP and I just really love the idea of Gimli standing on a stool/chair/box/etc. to smash his tall elf lover.
> 
> Apologies for the gratuitous use of innuendo. It's not meant to be taken seriously, as even Gimli and Legolas are laughing at when they're saying, so don't worry yourself over whether I actually believe "mining a cave" is a good and/or arousing way to say sex.

The ornate vanity in Legolas’ room in the Mirkwood palace serves one person very well– there are three individual mirrors on the sturdy wooden thing; one is straight on, and the others are angled gently beside the first. The vanity offers about the same amount of space as a small desk, and there is one matching chair which can be tucked neatly away under it. Yes, this vanity is perfect for Legolas’ use, but it is slightly impractical now that his Dwarvish companion apparently wishes to take down his hair at the same time as the elf. Presently, Gimli occupies the chair, leaving Legolas to bend awkwardly over the vanity so he can see in the mirror to help himself dislodge a braid that had become particularly tangled during the day. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that elf hair could tangle like that,” Gimli snickers, pulling the last of the decorative golden beads out of his beard. 

“You know very well that it does,” Legolas replies. “You’ve traveled with me long enough to have seen my hair in disarray.”

Gimli chuckles as he stands up. “Oh, aye, I have– I’m just pulling your leg, that’s all.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Legolas admits. “On various occasions, you’ve said that you wouldn’t have thought that elves burped, or that they could break a nail, or that they could have headaches or cramps or dry skin. I don’t know where your misconceptions finish and your jokes begin.”

Gimli tucks the chair away and walks towards the large bed in the centre of the room. “I suppose that is fair. Well, I have learned that elves are not quite perfect– just nearly.” He begins to disrobe.

Legolas sees himself smirk in the mirror. “Yes, apparently so.”

The rustle of clothing ceases. “Oh, but ain’t that a pretty sight,” Gimli says in a low tone. 

“What?” Legolas asks, not moving. In the mirror, he can see his lover approaching. 

“The way your arse looks with you bent over like this,” Gimli replies, his voice sounding nearly reverent. “You in this nearly transparent night shirt you elves wear… You’re a work of art, I reckon.”

Legolas blushes slightly, but endeavours to hide it. “Am I really a work of art,  _ rwalaer _ ? Dwarves should know art when they see it.”

“Aye, indeed!” Gimli agrees. Then, his broad, calloused hands rest warmly on Legolas’s rump. “Like a statue draped in the finest silk, you are. Carved out of pure marble, or alabaster.” His hands rub appraisingly over the curve of the elf’s rear. “And your Maker spent many an hour perfecting this right here–” he squeezes the flesh– “rounding out the curve, making it just the right shape to tempt a Dwarf who happens to be but a foot above eye level with a lovely elf arse.” 

Legolas is torn between a chuckle and a sigh. He curves his back slightly more as he feels Gimli pull his nightshirt up, up his legs and over his rear, exposing him to the Dwarf’s hungry gaze. He feels warm hands pull his cheeks apart. Legolas gives up on his braid.

“Oh, now this view is a blessing. I’ve told you before– even your arsehole is pretty,  _ Kidhuzurâl _ . Even this looks like it perfected by an exceptionally perverse artist.” Gimli’s touches are getting rather possessive. 

The elf squirms. “Ah, Gimli…”

“Shush, my One. Allow me to look my fill.”

“How long can you possibly spend looking there?” Legolas groans. 

“Is that a challenge?”

Legolas snorts. “No, please; I’m– I need–” Legolas bites down on his lip. He gets embarrassingly desperate sometimes, with Gimli touching and praising him.

“You need what,  _ Muhudel _ ?” Gimli asks, his voice soft and scarcely higher than a growl. 

Legolas meets his own wild eyes in the mirror and sighs. “I need you to do something, Gimli.”

The Dwarf chuckles. “And what would that ‘something’ be?”

“You could take me to bed,” Legolas suggested, wiggling his rear for his lover. 

“Hmm, yes. But I do perhaps wish I were a little taller, just at the moment, so I could have ye where ye stand.” Gimli sounds very earnest in his wish.

Legolas shivers. He glances over to the chair, and he seems to do so at the same time as Gimli. 

“Do you think that chair is sturdy, Legolas?” he asks. There is a note of mischief in his voice.

Legolas smirks. He likes where this is going. “Yes, I do think– As sturdy as such a chair can be, I would say.”

Chuckling, Gimli lets go of the elf’s rear and picks up the wooden chair. He moves it just behind Legolas, and wobbles it to check the stability. “If I break this chair,” Gimli says, “How will we explain to your father?”

Legolas laughs lightly. “It is not an heirloom, Gimli. My father would never even have to hear about it. I would simply tell a servant I am in need of a new one.”

“Good.” The Dwarf steps onto the chair, and Legolas can see his face light up in the mirror. “Oh, yes, now  _ this _ … This is perfect!”

Legolas lowers his body onto the vanity so he can see his Dwarf more clearly. Gimli nudges his still-clothed erection between the elf’s ass cheeks, and Legolas shudders. “Yes, it is perfect,” the elf agrees. 

Gimli smirks. “I will finish undressing and get the oil.” He climbs off the chair and walks towards their bed. 

Legolas stays put and watches in the mirror as his beloved strips off the remainder of his clothes, exposing his powerful body. Legolas remembers when he’d first seen a Dwarf he’d been disgusted by the amount of hair they all had– on their faces and their arms and legs. However, it had been a different story with Gimli. The first time he’d seen Gimli in any state of undress had been on the first leg of the Fellowship’s journey. Legolas had caught a glimpse of Gimli bathing, and had noticed how his chest, stomach, and even his back were covered in russet hair. But strangely, Legolas hadn’t been disgusted, despite his dislike of Gimli at the time. Even then, he’d found it strangely attractive– a pleasant change from the nearly hairless elven bodies he had grown accustomed to.

The first time Gimli had made love to him, Legolas found the hair terribly arousing, down to the thick bush of hair between his legs– this, too, braided in traditional Dwarvish fashion. And now– Gimli is undressed, and he stalks towards Legolas, a flask of oil in hand, and Legolas cannot wait for Gimli’s warm and powerful form to press against his, for the surprisingly soft hair to tickle against his skin. 

The Dwarf gets onto the chair again. Legolas can see Gimli’s thick erection sway and bob as he moves. “You’re so beautiful, Legolas. Such a  _ pretty _ elf, you are.”

Legolas whimpers slightly. “Gimli,  _ meleth… _ ”

“Yes, I know– You can see that I am coating my fingers with oil, can you not?” Gimli asks. 

“I can, yes,” Legolas answers. He watches his lover slick his fingers in the flask, and bring the shining digits close to his rear. Legolas can feel as he runs them over the length of his crack, teasing with a calloused fingertip over his puckered hole. Gimli’s face in the mirror is intense with passionate focus, like that of a craftsman working on a complex project. 

“Ai,  _ melethron _ ,” Legolas pants. His own erection presses against the unyielding wood of the vanity.

Gimli’s lips twist into a smirk. “How have I become so lucky, that Legolas Greenleaf should be my One? That the fairest specimen of the fairest of creatures should belong to me, and I to him?”

“You once said you would call nothing fair, save the Lady Galadriel or her gift,” Legolas teases. 

“Do you not think that my love for you is a gift from her as well? She allowed me to see the beauty of her race, and she called me Elf-friend, and through this I was able to realize the love I had for you.”

Gimli pushes his thick index finger into Legolas’ tight hole, and the elf gasps, finding he has no words left on the subject. 

The Dwarf chuckles. “Oh, Legolas,  _ Khajimel _ ,  I knew you would agree.”

“Y-your cock, Gimli, please,” the prince pants. “I am ready.”

Gimli rubs the pads of his work-worn fingers over the sensitive skin of Legolas’ asshole. “It seems you are always ready for me,  _ Atamanel _ .”

Legolas wiggles his rear. “Yes, Gimli. I am always ready for you. Always wanting you.”

He watches in the mirror as Gimli dabs some oil onto his cock and spreads it over the ruddy skin. The Dwarf sighs at the pleasure from his own hand. “ _ Mizimel _ _ , Gimlelul _ ,” he mutters in his low, reverent voice that soothes and excites the elf all at once. Satisfied that he is ready, Gimli places one hand on the curve of Legolas’ rump, and the other he uses to steady his cock.  _ “Lukhudel, Âzyungel _ ...” He presses the plump head of his erection to the rim of Legolas’ hole. 

The elf clenches his jaw, steeling himself. And his lover pushes himself inside, slow and sure, a slick glide of hot pleasure. Both of them groan in unison, and Legolas sees in the mirror that his face is flushing and his eyelids fluttering. 

“Aye, this really is the ideal position,” Gimli says. The chair creaks a little as he shifts his weight on it to balance better. 

Legolas’s knees quiver, his feet feeling nearly useless on the ground. “Gimli…”

The Dwarf thrusts slowly, going deep. He breathes in soft hisses and pants. Legolas’s jaw slackens at the pleasure he feels. 

“Look at yerself in the mirror. All disheveled,” Gimli points out. “And you’re beautiful. Always beautiful, you are.”

Legolas looks in the mirror and watches Gimli fuck him slowly. It’s an odd sight to see; his short, squat lover standing on a chair so he can take the much taller elf where he stands. If he was not in such bliss, he would laugh. He would laugh at the creaks of the chair and at the sight of his Dwarven lover getting up onto the balls of his feet to deepen his thrusts. But he could not laugh. He was too busy moaning and humming with pleasure. The chair really did make him the perfect height for this. 

“You look amused,” Gimli says, his voice straining a little through exertion and pleasure.

“You’re using a chair to fuck me standing,” Legolas explains. “Is that not slightly amusing?”

Gimli chuckles. “Aye, I suppose it is, perhaps. But it’s working very well, is it not?”

Legolas nods. “Yes, yes it is, Gimli–  _ Oh, Gimli!”  _

Gimli moves slightly faster. The slap of skin against skin grows louder. Legolas wonders, as he does in the back of his mind every time they make love in his bedchambers, if other elves in the palace can hear. As always, he finds he cares little.

The elf whimpers and cries out. His legs are shaking. “Mm,  _ meleth _ , yes!”

Gimli massages Legolas’ rear appreciatively. “Mahal’s stones– You’re irresistible, Legolas. You make me want to have you until every ounce of my seed is spent in your lovely arse.”

Legolas licks his lips, as they’re growing dry from all his panting. “I would beg you to do that. I would lie waiting for you to fuck me in every way thinkable– And when you have run dry, you would use your fingers and your mouth on me, you would carve smooth stone into phallic shapes to curb my insatiable need until would be able to use your cock on me again.”

“You think elvish stamina would outlast that of a Dwarf?” Gimli asks. Their old feud never ended entirely, though it has become an entirely different game, now. 

Legolas smirks, meeting Gimli’s eyes in the mirror. “You  _ know  _ it would. Even in reality, I –  _ oh –  _ I am unappeasable. I am unquenchable.”

“Hah! And yet it is the Dwarves who are called greedy!” Gimli says. His thrusts have not slowed one bit. Sweat gleams off the corded muscle of his frame.

“Yes, and rightfully so, for it is you, Dwarf, who has dug so  _ deep  _ within me, who has  _ plundered _ me and ignited this inextinguishable flame of desire, freed the lusty Balrog within my soul!” Legolas says. The elf-song ever-present in his voice was a lewd and raunchy melody, dragging and lurching to the beat of their lovemaking.

“But you would not have it snuffed out, would you, elf? You would beg for kindling on this fire, and you would beg for this Dwarf to probe your  _ cavern _ !”

Legolas laughs, despite himself. “Oh, yes, Gimli,  _ Melamin, _ my cavern _ aches  _ to be ravaged by your Dwarven tool–”

Gimli laughs heartily as well. “My Dwarven greed will not allow me to stop digging deeper, even though I have found Durin’s Bane. I am the first Dwarf to have mined an elf’s cave, and I will not stop until I have made a great hall with a throne within!”

Legolas cries out, his toes curling against the floor. His right lower eyelid is twitching, which Gimli has learned is a sure sign he’s hit the spot. 

“I believe I’ve struck gold,” says Gimli, earning a half-laugh, half-moan from his lover.

“Yes, Gimli– and please, mine it to your heart’s content!”

The speed of Gimli’s hips increases. “A Dwarf cannae be content until he has removed every last precious gem from his quarry–” he grunts– “or milked every last drop of pleasure from his lover.”

Legolas whines. Gimli is unyielding, a veritable battering ram at his rear. “Oh, Gimli-nîn,  _ Aratoamin– _ ”

“I am blessed with the most beautiful of natural wonders. Mahal has gifted me with the purest treasure as a lover, with skin of alabaster and hair of spun gold. I must not take more than I am offered from my One.”

The elf prince cries out. He is so close to the brink. “I offer you everything that I am, Gimli,  _ A’maelamin– _ I am yours. I belong to you, fully!”

His blue eyes meet with Gimli’s hazel ones in the vanity mirror. The Dwarf is rugged, disheveled, handsome beyond words. “And I belong to you, Legolas,  _ Ghivashel, Uzfakuh _ . All I am is yours.”

Legolas’ moans and whimpers seem to rise in pitch as Gimli continues to fuck him harder, knocking the solid wooden vanity against the wall. “I’m close,  _ meleth _ , oh, Gimli–”

Gimli grunts low. “Spill for me, then, oh, my pretty elf,  _ Kidhuzel _ !”

“Ai, Gimli, ai–!” Legolas lets out a choked whine as he comes, warm fluid painting the vanity white. He shudders and can feel himself clenching and pulsing around his lover’s hefty cock. 

The Dwarf wobbles on his chair as he struggles for those final deep thrusts his. Legolas places bets on which Khuzdûl phrase he will be gifted with this time, and as Gimli comes undone, releasing deep inside Legolas, the elf prince can hear a choked sigh of “Oh,  _ Sanûrzud _ !”, and he smiles, though that was not the endearment he had bet on. 

As Gimli pulls out, he loses balance has to steady himself on Legolas so as not to fall. “Durin’s beard,” he mutters, “you’ve made me light-headed!”

Legolas chuckles. He watches in the mirror as his lover carefully climbs to the ground, and walks on unsteady legs to grab a rag from beside the washbasin. He has been amused too soon, however, as he falters slightly as he straightens.

“I had you good and thorough,” Gimli says proudly. “You’re wobblin’ like a faun, you are.”

Legolas smirks. “And I was bent over the whole time. The position made my legs fall asleep some.”

Gimli tosses the rag to his elf, who catches it easily and wipes the worst of the mess off himself and the vanity. “You think I didn’t plunder you sufficiently,  _ Amrâlimê _ ?”

Legolas shakes his head. “ I am only… what is it you say? ‘Pulling your leg.’ I do indeed feel that my caverns have been thoroughly mined.”

Gimli laughs. “That is good, as my… My mining tools cannot be used again, immediately.” Gimli snuffs the larger lamps in the room, leaving only the smaller candle by the bed and the moonlight which shines through the window to illuminate their bedchambers. 

“So these are the limits of the fabled Dwarven stamina?” The elf raises an eyebrow.

Gimli walks up to his lover and takes his hands. “I am afraid that my motivation to continue plundering is surpassed by my desire to hold my dearest lover in my arms and fall asleep.”

Legolas smiles. “This is understandable. I would quite like to do so myself.”

The elf prince lets go of Gimli to climb into bed, where the Dwarf soon follows with slightly more difficulty. 

“Come,  _ Aier _ ,” he says sweetly. Gimli smiles and cuddles up to Legolas. Gimli believes that word means something deeply romantic, and Legolas has no intention of telling him any differently. 

“Wait, your braid–” Gimli remembers. “If it is left while you sleep, the tangle will be worse come morning.”

Legolas hums and shifts his body so that Gimli can reach his head more easily. The Dwarf fiddles with the knot of hair, slowly but surely making progress, and eventually the snag is altogether gone. Gimli finishes removing the braid and he kisses the locks of golden hair in his fingers. “There you are,  _ Ûrzudel _ ,” he says.

Legolas yawns. “Thank you, Gimli. I appreciate your kindness.”

The Dwarf wraps his thick arms around Legolas and pulls him closer to his broad chest. Legolas can hear his lover’s steady heartbeat.

“Perhaps we should have a kind of… box, or stool, perhaps, at the ready, for the next time you wish to make love to me in such a fashion,” Legolas suggests.

Gimli laughs in a low, mischievous fashion, and the elf smirks naughtily at the sound. “Yes, I think that would be a lovely idea. When we have permanent lodgings together in the Glittering Caves, there will be a sturdy step stool in every room, so that I can have you standing wherever and whenever we please.”

Legolas snickers. “Oh, Gimli,  _ mela en’ coiamin _ , I have a feeling that you will make it so every corner of the Caves is suitable for us to make love in.”

The Dwarf guffaws. “Perhaps I shall,  _ Hôfukel– _ perhaps I shall.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations of terms I used (I got the majority of them off of random sites so they may be totally incorrect, full disclosure):
> 
> Sindarin  
Rwalaer: Lusty one  
Meleth: Love  
Melethron: Male lover  
Melamin: My love  
Aratoamin: My champion  
A’maelamin: My beloved  
Aier: Short one  
Mela en’ coiamin: Love of my life
> 
> Khuzdûl  
Kidhuzurâl: Golden one  
Muhudel: Blessing of blessings  
Khajimel: Gift of all gifts  
Atamanel: Breath of all Breaths  
Mizimel: Jewel of all jewels  
Gimlelul: My brightest star  
Lukhudel: Light of all lights  
zyungel: Love of loves  
Ghivashel: Treasure of all treasures  
Uzfakuh: My greatest joy  
Kidhuzel: Gold of gold  
Sanûrzud: Perfect sun  
Amrâlimê: My love  
Ûrzudel: Sun of all suns  
Hôfukel: Joy of joys


End file.
